ShatteredInsanity
by Unholy-Existence
Summary: Life is never easy, but especially not for these three. Alfred has to deal with taking care of himself and his brother, while still managing to avoid (Or not) fights in school. Arthur has to try to help his mentally unstable mother. And Matthew Williams is hiding a secret that is tearing him apart. When life hits them all at once, it's not surprising that they may just go insane.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first chapter in my Shattered~Insanity story. For right now it's in Alfred's (America's) pov, but it'll change later on. Rated T for violence and mild swearing. Please enjoy and review!**

(Friday) Alfred

"Kick him! Do it!"

"Bash in his head!"

"Get him!"

The taunting calls of the people surrounding me don't faze me - I won't let them. Even as another punch knocks me to the ground, I refuse to lose hope. I stand up shakily and wipe blood away from my split lip. "Think you're so tough, huh?" I ask. "I'm just going easy on you." My opponent, Bill-something-or-other, glares at me. I have to admit I'm surprised. It's so rare to find someone who can hold his own against me.

"You're going easy on me, are you?" Bill sneers. Before I can move, he punches me in the gut. As I double over, he elbows the back of my head, which sends me sprawling on the ground. I gasp as pain shoots through my body. He steps on my back, digging his foot into my spine. "You're going easy on me, are you?" He repeats, stomping my back. I am stunned - how is he so strong? And why can't I even hit him?! I squirm beneath his weight, but he is relentless. He kicks me in my side, on my back and chest, anywhere he can possibly reach. "I'll show you who's the real tough guy here." He says with an evil grin. And then, here it comes. I watch though the pain-filled haze as his foot lifts into the air, ready to smash down onto my skull. I grit my teeth and prepare for the worst.

"Yeah, yeah! Get him! Go for it!" The crowd is seething with bloodlust.

"Stop!" A frantic voice screams. The crowd falls silent for once. Bill's foot smashes into the ground just inches away from my head. I squint and see familiar Nikes running up to Bill and I. Arthur. "Knock it off. Stop right now." Arthur repeats. His tone is firm, commanding. Just as the Student Council President's voice should be. I imagine the look on his face to be one of steely disdain.

"Are you going to make me, Mr. President?" Bill mocks. "What are you going to do? Give me ISS? Ooh, I'm terrified." He spits, then, and it lands on my cheek. The crowd laughs. I don't think I've ever felt so humiliated.

"Yes, I will, Mr. Obyroclking." Arthur says. He's tone is firm - he sounds like a teacher. Surely he knows that won't ever work - Bill Obyro-whatever doesn't ever listen to teachers.

"Give me ISS, then." Bill shoves Arthur. Arthur stumbles a little. "Go ahead and give me ISS, cause we all know you ain't strong enough to beat me in a real fight." The crowd's laughter increases. They know it's true, too. Bill shoves Arthur again, harder this time. I watch Arthur's feet trip over themselves in an attempt to remain upright.

"I'm not going to do that." I imagine Arthur rolling his eyes. " I came here to prevent a fight, not to give in to your stupid jeering and start another fight." Bill doesn't respond, so Arthur continues. "Honestly, people like you disgust me. You're pathetic, Mr. Obyrockling. So if I were you, I'd just -" His voice trails off, and I see a blur as Bill's foot smashes into my face, grazing my temple. I yelp loudly in pain. Tears come to my eyes. I force them back and swallow.

"Leave us alone, Prez." Bill kicks me on my shoulder, causing me to roll and face them. "Good old Ally and I weren't done talki-" His voice fades to a grunt. The crowd gasps as Arthur's fist collides with Bill's fat stomach. Arthur punches him again in the stomach, and once more in the chest. He is deliberate, never hitting the face, but going after all the other vulnerable areas. Bill staggers and nearly falls into the crowd, but Arthur pulls him back by his shirt and kicks him in the knees. There is a large popping sound as one of Bill's knees pops out of place. Bill yells in pain and collapses on the ground next to me. Arthur digs his knee into Bill's back and grabs his shoulder, forcing it back at a painful angle.

"Mr. Obyrockling," Arthur hisses. " leave Alfred alone." His voice goes deathly quiet. "I'll break your bloody arm right here and now if you don't." Bill whimpers a little and nods as best he can. Arthur releases him. Bill stands up. His friends grab him and he hobbles away, shooting one final nasty look at me. There's still a bit of a crowd around us, whispers buzzing, they are awed over what just happened. Arthur waves his hand. "Go away." He says flatly. The crowd scatters instantly. Once they leave, Arthur holds his hand out to me. I take it reluctantly, wincing as I stand up. He hands me my backpack, which was lying a few feet away from me.

"Ow..." I mutter, trying to ease the soreness out of my shoulder. I don't look at him. I can't bear to face the humiliation of it all.

"Al." Arthur says. "Are you alright? You should probably go to the nurse." He sounds concerned, but I don't care. I'm too furious. It should have been me standing over Bill's crumpled form- not Arthur. I scowl and start to walk away. Arthur follows. "Al!" Arthur repeats. "You're bleeding. You should at least go let the nurse look over you!"

"No." I say angrily.

"Why? What's wrong?" Arthur asks, finally getting just how mad I am.

"What's wrong? I just got the crap beat out of me in front of the entire school, that's what's wrong!" I turn to him. "Then, to make matters worse, I have to have freaking sissy boy President of Student Council come and bail me out!" It hurts to yell, but I don't care. I'm furious and someone needs to take the blame.

"I know you're upset, but shouting won't help matters." Arthur's voice is measured. He is choosing to ignore the comment I made about him. "You should still see the nurse. One of your ribs could possibly be broken." He starts to stay something else but I stop him.

"I don't care!" I say, clenching my fists. "We aren't friends, okay? Just because you and your crazy mom helped me and Mattie out last summer doesn't automatically make us best friends! In fact, after some of that psycho crap she pulled, you're lucky I'm even talking to you right now, freak! We aren't friends, so just leave me alone!"

"Leave my mum out of this. I already told you I was sorry." Arthur's voice is less controlled; I can hear anger creeping on the edges of his tone. "I know it worried you and I know she was acting weird, but…" He falters. His green eyes narrow slightly. "But I already apologized. More then once. And it's stupid that I even have to apologize for the things my mum does. She can't... she can't help it. If you want to keep bringing it up like it's some horrible awful thing then I will seriously have to..."

"What? Are you going to hurt me?" I ask. I laugh. "Too late. Someone already did that. Many times, actually. And your mom _is _crazy. If she can't help it, then she needs to be locked up. No joke." I am walking away again. Judging by how light it is outside, it's nearing five-o-clock. I have to get home. Knowing Matthew, he might start worrying. He does that a lot.

"Hey!" Arthur yells after me. I ignore him and continue to walk. "Hey!" He yells louder. I walk faster. "Even though your family is a little messed up, it doesn't give you the excuse to act like a complete arse!" A little messed up? Did he really just say that?! I turn a little and flip him off. "You know, I almost wish he _had _stepped on your head!" He sounds angry now.

"Good for you!" I call over my shoulder. Then I tug out my Ipod from its pocket in my backpack and put my headphones over my head, drowning out whatever he might have to say next.

I arrive home and, sure enough, find Matthew pacing the house nervously. "Knock it off. I'm home." I say, tossing my backpack in a random corner. Then I kick off my shoes and toss them too. A few more things won't make any difference to the dirty, cluttered building we call home. I collapse on the sofa. Everything hurts. Matthew silently hands me a couple ice packs.

"Sorry." He says, sitting next to me. "It's just...you said you'd be back by four and..." He trails off, his eyes flicking over to look at me. I nod and feel a pang of guilt. I know Matthew is scared that someday I won't ever come home, just like mom and dad. The only difference between the two was that mom had died in a car crash when we were ten. Our wonderful father had gotten himself picked up by the police a year and a half ago for drug trafficking. That was when we went to stay with Arthur, because at the time I thought I couldn't handle taking care of a house and everything else by myself. I know I pretty much told Arthur that I didn't care that he had took us in, but I'm actually glad that Arthur helped us out. His mom is just...freaky. She's seriously messed up. And if she's so messed up - I think the doctors called it schizophrenia or something like it - then couldn't Arthur be messed up too? He is her son, after all. And anyway, Matthew doesn't need to be hanging out with people like that. "Al?" Matthew's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I put one of the icepacks on my face, and the other goes on my chest.

"I'm okay." I say, even though I'm in a lot of pain. Matthew's head goes up and down.

"What happened?" He asks, though judging by the look on his face he already has a good guess.

"Got in a fight." I mumble, sinking further into the couch. I can feel my anger fading away, just like it always does whenever I'm around Matthew. I have to put on a positive face to save us both.

"H-How..." He trails off again. He's been doing that a lot lately too. "Are you alright?"

"Of course. I just said I'm okay, didn't I?" I finally find a comfortable position on the couch. My eyes flutter shut and I sigh in relief.

"Yeah. But, um...you do know you're face is bleeding, don't you? It's bleeding really badly." There is a trace of fear in his voice. "Do you want me to get you a washcloth or something?"

"Nah. I'm fine. Head wounds bleed a lot." I touch my face. There is a ragged wound right above my temple, probably from when Bill kicked my face. "Besides, maybe if we don't mess with it, it'll leave a cool scar, huh?" I force a smile on my face.

"Or a bad infection." Matthew smiles a little, but warily.

"Rght. So we'll just have to wait and see what happens." I snicker.

"I guess." Matthew laughs softly. "But if you wake up one morning and you see that it's yellow, don't blame me." He smiles.

"I won't. Don't worry." I pick up the remote off of it's spot on the ground - we don't have a coffee table since Dad sold it - and flick on the small TV. Static and blurry colors show up on it. "Now, lets see what Bunny Ears can do for us." I say. Matthew laughs again and goes to adjust the antennae.

**Well, first chapter was really short (Sorry!) and a little boring. The incident will be explained in due time, and chapter two should come out shortly!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two is out! It's still from Alfred's POV. Bill and the librarian in this chapter are just random people - they aren't hetalia characters. (I don't own Hetalia, by the way ^^) Please read and review!**

Monday at school, I actually make it to class on time. I enter the room cautiously and sit down at my seat, trying to act natural. Or as natural as I can be, anyway. It doesn't work. Five minutes into class a boy comes in carrying a pink note. The teacher reads it then looks at me.

"Alfred." He says, waving the note around. I stand slowly and walk over to him. As he gives me the note, I swear I detect a hint of a smirk on his bearded face.

"Thanks." I mutter. The note says I have to go to counselor. Wonderful. I make my way over to the counselor's office and sit down at an empty seat. Before I can even sit my bag down, Mrs. Browns, the counselor, pops her head in the doorway.

"You can come in." She says in her nasally voice. I groan and follow her inside. She gestures for me to sit. "Coffee?" She asks. I shake my head.

"I'll take a beer, if you have one." I say, smirking.

"Very funny, Alfred." She chortles loudly. "But now isn't the time for joking, I'm afraid. The incident Friday..."

"Yeah, yeah. Suspension, detention, glory, all that. Even though I really wasn't the one who started it...go ahead. Lay it on me." I sigh. I was expecting this.

" We'll get to that in a moment, Alfred." It's so annoying the way she says your name after every sentence. It's like, who else is in here? "You see, the problem is, this isn't your first fight since you've been at our school." She pulls out some papers - my file?

"I know. I've had a few fights." I say. She shakes her head.

"Oh, no. More then just a few." She flips through the papers. Like she hasn't memorized them already. "In your freshman year, you went through four fights, and two of them were started by you. Sophomore year, you went though seven fights. And now, junior year, you've been through almost thirteen fights - and it isn't even second semester yet."

"I guess I just like to fight." I say, shrugging.

"Mm…well. Are things going well with you at home?" She asks. "I know after your father -"

"Things are fine." I say curtly. She should just drop it.

"I'm having a hard time accepting that." Mrs. Browns says. "Alfred, your grades are extremely low and you've been getting into more and more fights. Your brother's grades are dropping significantly as well, which is surprising because he had a very high grade point average." My eyes widen.

"Mattie's grades are dropping?" He never told me that. Mrs. Browns nods.

"Yes, they are. By a rather decent amount too, I'm afraid. He's failing a few of his classes." She says, glancing down at another file. My brother's.

"Crap." I mutter under my breath. I had already figured I'd never amount to anything; I'd be stuck in this town forever, maybe working at a car wash or McDonalds or something. But Matthew - he could actually get somewhere. His grades were good enough for a full-time scholarship, people said. But if his grades started falling now… I bite my lip nervously. There's no way I could ever pay for him to go to college, not even if it meant selling everything I own, working two full-time jobs, plus selling the clothes on my back. It would never be enough. It just wouldn't happen. "Crap." I repeat, louder this time. My heart pounds in my chest, as though it's trying to escape the extra weight that's just been added to it. He doesn't deserve to stay here. Mattie deserves more then this stupid town. I shove my hands in my pockets, chest aching. My head hurts, and I just want to leave.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" Mrs. Browns asks. Her face shows concern. Real or fake, I can't tell.

"Why didn't he tell me...?" I mutter. I sigh loudly. "Yeah, I'm fine." Mrs. Browns clears her throat.

"Are you sure?" When I don't reply, she nods and continues. "And, um, I also heard that, ah, you were fired from your job last week." Ouch. It's like rubbing salt on my open chest wound. I flinch, and when I speak my voice is hoarse.

"Yeah." I reply, avoiding her eyes. She sighs.

"Alfred...we can help you, you know. You don't have to do this all by yourself." Her voice is dripping kindness.

"I don't need any help." I say. "I'm doing okay."

"It doesn't have to be money-wise. We can even help you in things like therapy. You can talk to someone - you don't have to keep everything bottled up inside all the time." Mrs. Browns says. I freeze. Therapy? No way.

"Like I said, I'm fine. And anyway, nothing's bottled up. Does it look like I have any bottles?" I stand up. This conversation is over.

"Alfred..." She says.

"No. No way. Just...just tell me how many days I'm suspended for, so I can figure some stuff out. Okay?" She stares at me with sympathy in her eyes. "Okay?" I repeat angrily.

"Alright." She sighs. "You're suspended for two days, starting tomorrow. Bill was suspended for a week. And Arthur was suspended for two days, even though we really didn't want to suspend either of you." Arthur was suspended? I feel guilt, then push it down. That's what he gets for being nosey. I nod.

"Two days. Alright." I say, opening the door. As I turn to leave, she calls after me.

"And Alfred? Please think about therapy...if you change your mind, please let me know. Come in at any time." She says. I nod jerkily and leave the room. Then, once I'm outside, I sit down in the hallway, my back against the tiled wall. I know therapy won't help - I had been there before. Both Mattie and I had, just after Dear Dad got arrested. It was awful. This old hag of a lady just sat there asking personal questions to us, questions that were none of her business. She'd ask both of us, then she took us in separately for questioning. And at the end of the session, she told us that she'd get back to us later. A few days later, she asked us to come back to her office. When we went up there, she told us that she consulted a doctor and that there were some "rather disturbing things she found". According to her and Mr. Doctor, we both had serious issues. She told me that chances were, I was probably bipolar, or in the least I had some "serious anger issues" and that Matthew was most likely suffering from depression and anxiety. She also told me that this kind of situation wasn't something I would be able to handle on my own. She thought it would be best if we got help from Social Services.

"I know of a lovely foster home you can go to." Were her exact words. "And it would only be temporary, in any case. A few months to a year. You and your brother probably won't even get adopted - though if you do, that would be a wonderful thing - you poor things need a family. And if you do get separated, you can always mail each other or..." At that point, I grabbed Mattie's hand and dragged him out of there. It's a good thing the address we gave her was fake, even though our phone number wasn't. Over the next week, she blew up my cell phone - wasting precious minutes I couldn't afford to lose - until I had to change my number. It wasn't fun. Therapists are crap.

I sit in the hallway for a little longer, debating on whether or not I want to go to second hour at all. Then I decide, what the hey, I might as well go. It's not like I have anything better to do, anyway. I stand up, wait a few more minutes for the bell to ring, then head to my next class. I'm regretting my decision to go when the Math teacher, Mr. Hart, decides to spring a pop quiz on us. I stare at the three very complicated math problems for a moment, before writing down my answer.

1. 456**X**+678**Y**=224**Z**^12.3= I

2.0980**X/**34.009**Y**= D

3**. If blah goes blank miles at blah kilometers per hour, how long will it take for blah to get to the movies, which are blah centimeters away. ** K

"Finished." I mutter, handing the test to my teacher. He stares at my answers.

"Good job, smart-aleck. You just failed math and literacy at once. Congratulations. That takes serious effort." He says, sneering at me. I grin back at him.

"Thanks, sir. I try." I say.

"I'd hope not, Al." He sighs, folds up my test, and puts it on top of the pile. "I really hope you were just being lazy, instead of actually coming up with those answers."

"If it'll help you sleep better at night...sir. Yes, I was just being lazy." I say. Mr. Hart can be a jerk, but he has a decent sense of humor, something most of the teachers at this school don't have. I spend the remainder of my time drawing the American flag on a blank sheet of paper. I don't know why, but I think our flag is the coolest out of all the other flags. It has stars and stripes, not to mention my favorite colors, red, white and blue. And it's just...cool. I can look at the flag and think, hey, if the people who made this country started out poor, then maybe there's hope for someone like me too. Which there isn't, but at least it helps cheer me up. Plus, American history is my best subject, anyway. I guess it makes sense that I like the American flag. I spend the rest of the hour drawing the flag over and over, probably causing a lot of tree deaths to be in vain, but whatever. It keeps my mind off other things I don't want to think about. Like how bad my head hurts, how the cut on my face is starting to get really puffy and weird looking, how Mattie's grades are low, how I lost my job last week and God-knows how I'm going to pay the mortgage or even manage to get groceries. How if I don't pay the rent on time or at least within a week of the due date, the manager swore he'd kick us out this time. How the rent is due in just a week and a half, and I have no freaking idea on ways I can get the money. ... Yep, just draw another flag. Then, when I'm all done, I toss my creations in the trash. I get a nasty look from environmentalist Elisaveta something. I roll my eyes. If she's so worried about stuff like that, she should just pick them up and put them in the recycle bin herself. I glance back and see that she's doing exactly that. I shake my head. People don't make sense. But then, when have they ever?

I ditch third and fourth hour - it's science, who cares - and spend my time wandering the halls by the library. I dart quickly inside whenever I see a teacher coming my way, then creep back out once I'm sure they're gone. The fifth time I do this, the librarian stares at me. She's a pinchy looking old woman, with stereotypical gray hair and glasses.

"Can I help you with anything?" She asks, looking pointedly over at me. Her name card says Mrs. Nyrale. I shake my head.

"Ah, no thanks." I reply. Just keep it short and sweet. "I was just...uh..." My excuses fail me. Telling the truth won't help either. She looks like the type of person who would send me straight back to class.

"Mmm hmm." She says. Her eyes notice my bruised and cut face. She exhales. "You're too skinny to be Bill, and too...idiotic to be Arthur. You must be Alfred." I am surprised, and embarrassed, for that matter. Students, even teachers, I'd expect to know about the fight. But the librarian? No way. She notes my surprise and grins a little. "It's all over the school, hon. People talk. And I listen." She glances back at her papers and sighs again. "Go get a book and sit at the table over there." She gestures to an empty table. I start to protest. "Look, it's either that or a teacher is going to catch you scuttling around like some moron, and you'll have to go straight back to whatever class you were trying to miss out on. Now sit." Her tone is commanding and I smile despite myself.

"Sure. Why not?" I say. I walk over and grab the nearest book by me, earning myself a "tsk" of disapproval from Mrs. Nyrale.

"Don't pick a book like that. If I ever just grabbed a book like that...and you aren't even holding it right..." She mutters to herself. I can feel her glaring at me, so I hold the book right and pretend to look interested as I sit down at the table. It works, believe it or not. Teachers come and go, but none of them even comment or so much as glance my way. They just go about their business, and I am ignored completely.

"Dang." I say once I hear the lunch bell. "You're good. Thanks a lot. " She looks up at me from her book.

"Good at what?" She asks. She closes her book.

"Good at helping students in need." I laugh. "Seriously, thanks. You have no idea how much I didn't want to go to bio-"

"Good at _what?_" She repeats, sounding confused, which, for a moment, makes me confused until I see her face. Her eyes twinkle beneath her glasses and she has the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

"Never mind..." I say. I set the book on the counter. "Check this out for me, will ya?" She takes it and scans it, handing it back to me in a matter of seconds.

"Have a good day." Mrs. Nyrale says. I nod and walk out the door. My stomach growls loudly, but I push down my hunger.

There really isn't any point in going to the lunchroom, because a) I don't have any money to buy lunch, and b) I have no friends who sit in the lunchroom. So lunchroom, out of the question. Instead, I decide to go to the place where I hang out when I don't have anything to do; the outside west wall of the art building. Aka, the Wall. It's where the few oddball friends I have sit sometimes, and Matthew and his friends sit there too. I step outside and pull my brown jacket tighter over my shoulders. For November it's been getting ridiculously chilly lately. As I walk closer to the art building, I note that there are only three people sitting at the Wall today. Honda Kiku, Francis Bonnefoy, and Matthew. When I walk up to them, Francis gives me a huge fake grin.

"Aww...if it isn't our little champ. Hello, champ! How are you? I would have suspected you might have been suspended for winning that fight Friday. Oh wait...you didn't win. Never mind, it was ah, the SCP Arthur that won wasn't it? What a shame." Francis smirks, reminding me just how much I dislike him. The only things that stop me from hitting him are that he is Mattie's friend, and that Honda's here. Honda is one of the most polite kids I've ever seen. With him, everything is "yes please", "No thank you" and "I apologize" - even if he didn't do anything. If I hit Francis, chances are Honda, who is right next to him, would probably get hit too. I seethe quietly and settle on giving Francis a glare.

"Shut up." I say, sitting on the ground. Francis takes a bite of his pizza, gooey cheese hanging from his mouth.

"It's true, isn't it? I mean, you can't get a cut on your face that big by winning, right?" Francis asks, swallowing and licking his lips. He's clearly relishing the fact that I lost_, and_ that I have no food to eat. I glare at him again. He's really getting on my nerves - if he keeps it up I'll punch him in his arrogant little face.

"Ah, um, A-Alfred..." Honda says, raising his hand slightly. He fidgets around in his bag. After a moment, he produces an apple. "Here. Would you like it?" He holds it out to me.

"Aw, sweet! Thanks dude! And how many times do I have to tell you; call me Al. I hate Alfred." I say, grinning. I take the apple, feeling a bit less irritated. The irritation comes back when I remember what Matthew's grades are like. I turn my head slowly and look at him, anger buzzing in my fingertips. For the first time I notice he's sleeping; head lolling foreword, shoulder's rising and falling with each breath he takes. "Hey," I start to say, meaning to wake him.

"Non. Let him sleep. You should have seen him in Lit. He looked dead on his feet." Francis stops me. I sigh.

"Alright...But why is he so tired, anyway?" I take a bite of my apple. "Do either of you know?" Honda shakes his head, mouth full.

"No, sorry." He replies after swallowing his rice ball. He eats some strange things.

"I don't know." Francis says. His head is tilted to the side so I can't see his face. I shrug, polish off the rest of my apple, and stand up.

"Well, I'm gonna head off. No point in going to any of my other classes. If Mattie asks where I am, just let him know I went home early." I say. The others nod.

Truth be told, I just want to go look for another job as fast as possible. I say goodbye and quickly jog off. I look for work in a bunch of different places, but a majority of them aren't hiring. I try McDonalds, BK, Arby's, Chick Fillet, the freaking Car Wash. All of them tell me the same thing: They just aren't hiring right now. I spend hours looking for a job, posting flyers, doing anything that might help me get a job, with no luck. When I return home, my legs and arms feel like lead, and it's nearly seven. My emotions are already running high when I get in the house, but when I see Matthew sitting on the couch just staring off into space, they overwhelm me.

"Don't you have homework or something to do?" I ask angrily. I slide my backpack on the floor and stare at him. He flinches a little, but meets my gaze.

"N-No." He says in response. I walk over to his backpack, which is lying next to him on the couch, and jerk it open. It's completely empty.

"Oh really? Where is it then?" I ask. "'Cause I'm sure you're missing a lot of stuff, if you're failing your classes." I throw his backpack on the ground. I know I sound a bit too parental, and I don't have any right to really say things like this when Mattie and I are almost the same age, but it still really irritates me.

"I'm..." Mattie stops. "How do you know about that?"

"Mrs. Browns told me about it. God, Matthew, you can't just let your grades drop. That's not cool at all."

"But you..." Matthew says, and I can see his next statement written all over his face. _But your grades are failing too._

"My grades don't matter. I've got a million other things to take care of." Like this house, my job, and..._you_. I restrain myself from saying those words. "But you, you don't even have an excuse! You don't have a job to worry about, or a house or _anything._ You just sit around all day when you get home and you don't do anything!" I am almost yelling by this point, but I manage to control myself once I see the look in Matthew's eyes. I exhale, then inhale. "And there is nothing wrong with not doing anything...but, bro, you got to keep your grades up, okay?" I ask, my voice trembling a little with the effort of remaining calm.

"Alright. I'll do it." Mattie says. Without looking at me, he stands up and walks past me.

"Hey..." I say as I turn to face him. "Are you alright? I'm sorry about that." I instantly feel guilt for what I just said.

"It's fine." His voice is flat, neither sad nor forgiving. "I'm okay." He walks down the hallway and into his bedroom, closing the door beside him.

**Why is Matthew acting so strange? All will be revealed in a later chapter! Next up: Arthur's POV~!**


	3. Chapter 3

It's**time for chapter three! This chapter is kinda long ^^ But the next chapter is going to be short. This gives a bit of background into Arthur's side of things, though it starts after the suspension. **

Arthur

It's Thursday at lunch and I'm exhausted. The two day suspension left me behind on my AP homework and, even though it shouldn't take long to catch up, it still isn't pleasant. It means I'll have to stay up even later just to get everything done. _And _my reputation is stained. Before Friday, I was the smart Student Council President who was good at helping people, but also a wimp. Now I'm the smart Student Council President who's good at helping people...and also the one who managed to beat Bill Obyrockling, who is easily one of the strongest guys in the school. People have been coming up to me all day with comments about what I did.

"Good job, Arthur!" "That fight was so cool!" "Can you do it again?" "Can you teach me how to do that?" "Cool!" "It's Super SCP!" "You rock!"

Even a few of the teachers give me small smiles whenever I pass by. "He was a bully. He deserved that lesson. But... you didn't hear that from me." They whisper. Honestly, I'm getting tired of all the fame. I was never this popular when I was just the SCP, even when I set up charity funds that managed to raise a lot of money, That was nothing compared to now. It makes me sick to think that this school is more proud of a good fight then they are of raising over two thousand dollars for cancer research. I sigh and walk over to my locker, spinning the dial. It opens on the first click and I pull out my ap calculus textbook and unzip my backpack. I am about to put the book into my backpack when someone thumps me on the back, causing me to drop it. My calculus book clatters to the floor.

"Oh, sorry." The person behind me says. He picks up my book and hands it to me. I mumble a thanks and turn to face him. It's Gilbert, a well known rebel to the school, but also a decently nice guy when he wants to be. He always has this little yellow bird of his, Gilbird, on top of his head. Technically, there are no pets allowed at school, but in freshman year, when the teacher tried to point that out to Gilbert, he freaked out, threatening to go to a different school. That wouldn't have been that big of a deal, but Gilbert's father is a rich man who frequently donates money to whatever school Gilbert goes to, and the principal knew he'd be missing out on a lot of extra cash if he let Gilbert go. So he allowed Gilbird to go to school with his owner, which is fine by most people, because the little bird really is quite sweet.

"Hello." I say, polite but confused. What would a rebel like him want to do with me? We never talked to each other - we were too far apart on the social spectrum. He was the tough but popular delinquent, while I was the less popular SCP.

"Yo." Gilbert says, a cocky grin on his face. "Hey, good job on Friday. You managed to beat Obyrockling. Of course, I probably could have done it too, but still, awesome job."

"Oh, uh..." Of course. The Friday incident again. "Thanks." I say.

"I mean, everyone always thought you were just some weak little goody-goody. I guess we were wrong." He thumps me on the back again. Gilbird chirps and flutters his wings.

"Right." I say. Neither of us knows what to say after that, so there's an awkward pause.

"Anyway, that's really all I came to say." Gilbert says. He starts to leave, then stops. "Oh, right! If you ever wanna come hang out with me and my friends, just let me know, alright?"

"Okay." I say, feeling as though I should be flattered by this offer. "I'll do that."

"Great!" Gilbert says. "That's awesome." He grins again, waves, and disappears into the cluster of students. I finally shove my book into my backpack and walk over to the lunchroom. I eye the students inside, then glance at their lunches. It _looks _like some sort of beefy noodle thing, with colourful bits of veggies mixed in. I silently gag as the concoction jiggles precariously on one student's plate, the juices dribbling all down his hands. Needless to say, I'm not very hungry after that. I compromise by going outside, sitting down by the oak tree at the front of the school, and pulling out my homework. I manage to finish all of my calculus homework and even get a good start on my lit. essay before trouble comes, as I expected it would. It comes in the form of swinging chains, saggy pants and not well hidden knifes. Bill's goonies. They walk up to me and surround me, identical smirks on their fat faces. At this point I don't think it would surprise me if they all broke out and started bloody snapping like the gangs do in the movies.

"Hello." I say, keeping my voice neutral even though I'm nervous. "Can I help you with anything?"

"You busted Bill's kneecap." One of them says. "It's only right we should bust yours. And then some." The others nod in agreement.

"There's no reason for a fight." I say, standing up slowly, my back against the hard oak tree.

"Oh yeah?" One says, and as though on cue they all lunge at me. I duck and manage to squeeze through them, escaping confinement. I swear, a few of them growl at me like dogs as they try and get me again. There is no symmetry to their movements; it's all clumsy and uncoordinated and very, very easy to avoid. Even if they provoke me I'm not going to attack them. I honestly don't want another suspension tarnishing my record. I spend a few moments dodging their blows and tripping them up a little before growing bored. A fist grazes me in the cheek as I turn to run off.

"You chaps don't know when to give up, do you?" I shout behind my back. I can hear them bumbling after me. If I don't speed it up they might just tackle me to the ground.

"Hey! Knock it off!" A teacher's voice shouts. Like magic, the bullies scatter in different directions, not wanting to get caught. I stop running. "Are you alright?" The teacher asks me.

"Yeah." I say, coughing a little. "Just a bit winded."

"If those thugs keep messing with you, just let me know, you hear?" The teacher says, waggling a finger at me. I nod.

"Of course I will." I say, even though I'm not normally a grass, and I don't even know the teacher's name. The teacher waggles his fingers some more and I nod again. I cringe once I hear the bell ring - I had hoped to get some more homework finished before the end of lunch. I sigh in submission and walk to my Advanced Psychology class.

Psych class isn't my favorite class of the day - if I had a choice I probably wouldn't even take it - but for someone like me, this class is essential. Understanding the human mind is extremely important, and today, the teacher is going to go over mental illnesses. Learning about these is the whole reason I signed up for this class in the first place.

"Alright, class. Today we're going to go over certain disorders and illnesses such as schizophrenia, split-personality disorder, bipolar -" The teacher, Mr. Hans, is cut off as a secretary pops her head into the room. A janitor follows, pushing several large boxes into the room. He sets them down and leaves. The secretary watches him for a second, then sighs.

"Um, sir...you're needed. You should come - fast." She says, her voice urgent. Mr. Hans puts down the attendance sheet he was holding and follows her out the room. The whole class cranes to hear what is going on, myself included.

"What's wrong?" Their voices are muffled, and I can only catch a few phrases.

"Some sort of...altercation...yes..." That's the secretary.

"How badly..." Mr. Hans.

"One...broke his arm...don't know...others."

"Who did it? Was it..."

"No witnesses...boys aren't saying..." Their voices fade as they hurry down the hall. I lean back in my chair, curious. What was all that about? Was there another fight? I wouldn't be surprised in a school like this. As I puzzle this over, the other people in my class have started chattering.

"So, mental illnesses today, eh?"

"Loony-bin cases!"

"Ooh!" Their tones go taunting.

"I hear voices...ooooh!"

This comment makes me freeze. I turn and try to pinpoint who said that, but many of the kids are talking at once. I grit my teeth as the comments continue.

"There are voices inside my head!"

"The aliens are coming! The aliens!"

"Nooo! Not the aliens!"

"Pff...mind control! Alien mind control! They'll take over your brain!"

"They'll take over your mind!"

"They're crawling inside me~ The aliens...the voices!"

"Shut up." I say to them. I feel anger tight in my chest. It isn't funny. It isn't funny at all. "Shut up." I repeat once they ignore me. They continue talking as though they didn't even hear me. I look around for someone I know, someone who can help me. The only other people in this class that I vaguely know are Ludwig, Gilbert, and…Matthew Williams. I look around for him, hoping he'll help me shut these people up, yet knowing he won't. He probably thinks it's true, and I don't blame him for it. He has every right to think those things. I finally find him sitting in the back of the room, eyes glazed over with a faraway look, staring at nothing. I cringe. He remains that way as I focus my attention back on the others, who have continued their senseless taunting.

"The voices!"

"Oh no! Aliens inside me! Aliens!"

"They've planted bugs and microchips inside all of us!"

"Shut up!" I yell at them, slamming my hands down on my desk and standing up. "Quit talking about that _now_!" My voice is threatening and I am breathing hard, but still they ignore me. "I thought I told you all to be quiet!" I start to head over to them, but a voice stops me.

"Hey, didn't he tell you to knock it off?" It's Gilbert. His usual smile is there, but it's sterner then normal. "He is the Student Council President after all, so you should listen to him. What if Mr. Hans had come in - all of you would have gotten detention. Our SCP doesn't want that, so he was just lookin' out for you. Now be quiet." Gilbird chirps in agreement, while Gilbert's friend Ludwig nods. To my surprise, my classmates obediently quiet down, with murmurs of "thanks, SCP" and "yeah, yeah." I myself am starting to calm down and compose myself again. I sit slowly down into my chair.

"Right." I say, though whether I'm saying it to myself, Gilbert, or my classmates I'm unsure. "Thank you." I exhale and feel the tension leaving me. They couldn't know about how awful the disease can really be. To them, it's just a game, and unless they had to live with it they would have no idea on just how bad it could get. I am the one who overreacted. I have to forgive them for their innocence.

"Are you alright?" Gilbert asks, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Of course." I say mildly. "People can just be really annoying sometimes."

"No kidding." Gilbert grins. "I could totally tell you were getting PO'd. This class is full of idiots."

"Wouldn't you be included in that, Gil?" Ludwig asks dryly. Ludwig is somewhat of a delinquent too, but he's of the strictest sort. He's more likely to join the army and be a commanding officer then anything. He really is intimidating, but his scary aura is dulled down when he has his friend, Feliciano, with him.

"I probably would, West. I'm just awesome like that." Gilbert replies. There are rumors that 'West' is Ludwig's street name, but it's unclear as to whether that's true or not. I feel a bit left out of the conversation, so I turn my attention on what's written on the white board. That proves pointless when Gilbert asks me a question a moment later. "So why did you want to take Advanced Psychology, Arthur?"

I'm not about to say that it's because my mum is crazy and I want to know how her mind works so I can better understand her, so I say something different. "Um... I suppose I just wanted to learn more about the human mind." I say, shrugging. "Why did you take it?" I direct this question at both of them.

"My father is convinced I'd make a good psychiatrist, just like him." Ludwig scoffs and shakes his head. I can't honestly imagine him being a good psychiatrist either. He'd be more likely to make his patients cry.

"My reason is the same as you. I want to understand the human mind more. I want to know all about different personalities and everything. It'd help me..." Gilbert trails off for a second and turns slightly pink. He shakes off his embarrassment and continues. "It'll help me, you know, interact with people and stuff. Sometimes, awesome as I am, I have a hard time with things like that. I used to be super shy when I was a kid. This little guy used to be my only friend, aside from Ludwig." He pats Gilbird on the head. Gilbird chirps and flaps his wings.

"You?" I ask, bewildered. "But you're one of the most confident people I know! Everyone likes you!" Gilbert laughs.

"Really? Kese, I guess, but still! It's hard sometimes." Gilbert says. He laughs again. The three of us chat for a bit until I finally notice the clock. It's already been thirty minutes - halfway into class - and the teacher still hasn't returned. I wonder what's going on. I think about this for a moment before Mr. Hans comes back inside. He looks exhausted, and even more so once he notices the large boxes, still stacked up against the wall.

"Oh wonderful." He sighs. "These were supposed to go to the office. How many times do I have to tell that man to put them in the right place, not bring them here. Just because I'm the..." He notices that the class has gone silent, listening to him rant. "Right...anyway." He motions to me. "Um, Arthur, sorry to bother you, but would you mind taking these down to the office?"

"Not at all." I say, smiling and getting out of my seat. The boxes look heavy, and I doubt I'll be able to carry them all. Mr. Hans seems to realize the same thing, and he looks around the room for someone to help me.

"And...Matthew? Would you mind helping him?" He asks Matthew, who is still staring off into space. I feel a chill go down my spine - out of all the people he could have asked, he had to choose one that most likely hates me! The teacher's voice seems to have snapped Matthew out of his daze. He blinks a couple times and nods.

"Sure." He replies, walking over to me and the boxes. We both pick up three boxes each - I was right, they are heavy - and leave the room. We walk in a silence that is, at least to me, filled with tension. We stumble down a flight of stairs and pass the nurses office, where two boys are moaning on the beds. It takes me a moment to realize that they're some people from Bill's little gang.

"I wonder what happened." I mutter. Matthew flinches beside me and shrugs. He seems worried, though about what I don't know. I shut up after that and we both continue to walk to the office. After dropping the boxes off, we relax in the hallway. It feels like there is still tension in the air, and I don't like it. I have to say something.

"So, uh..." I say. Nice start, I know. "Thanks for helping me carry those things."

"Not a problem." Matthew says. "It's better then doing nothing." Nothing as in staring off into space?

"They were wicked heavy, though. I wonder what was in them." I say, grinning.

"I know." Matthew returns a small grin. "Maybe fifty pound weights or something. That's what it felt like." He laughs quietly. I laugh with him.

"No kidding." That's when I notice that he's rubbing his arm. The white sleeve of his long sleeve shirt goes up a little, exposing the pale skin underneath. I go cold once I see a few ragged white scars, curling all the way up to his palm. My breath catches in my throat and I cannot look away. It was because of her that this happened. Matthew sees me staring and tugs down his sleeve, hiding a decent amount of them. "I..." Is all I can say. Guilt smothers me and I can't help but hate her in that moment.

"It's okay." Matthew says. I can't look at him. "Really, it's alright." He repeats, a somewhat forced smile on his face. I nod as feeling begins to return to my chest. "So how is she? Your mom?" His voice is soft when he says this, and I cannot hear any contempt in his voice, just curiosity and hidden sadness.

"She's...good. About the same as...er... usual, I suppose. But she's getting better." I say, even though it's not true. She's still the same, and she'll always be the same, or she'll get worse. It's like she's trapped on the top of a cliff, and the only place she can go is down.

"That's good." Matthew smiles. "I'm glad she's at least doing well. That's all that counts, right?"

"Yes. She's doing the best she can. It's all she can do." I say, nodding. My chest feels heavy, but at least it doesn't feel numb with fear and guilt like before. I lean against the wall.

"Good. Right." Matthew says. He trails off for a few seconds. "Well, tell her I said hello, alright? I-If that's okay."

"Sure." I say. It won't do mum any harm, I suppose. Then I notice the clock. "Oh dear. We had probably better get back to class." Matthew nods and we sprint up the stairs.

**That's it for chapter three~ Next up will be a shorter chapter, but it'll still be from Arthur's point of view. By the way, can anyone think of any good chapter titles? I've thought of a few, but I don't knowif they'll work. (which is sad because it's my story D:) Anyway, feedback would be nice! Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is a really short chapter! Still from Arthur's pov, though! **

At home, I lug in a fresh batch of groceries and place the electric bill on the counter. It's always amazingly high, but mum used to be an extremely famous author before everything happened, so we have plenty of money to pay the bills even without her working.

"Hey, mum! I'm home." I say, walking into the living room. Mum is sitting on the couch, knitting something. She looks at me cautiously. Recognition kicks in and she smiles and pats the seat beside her. I sit down and kiss her cheek.

"It starts with the buzzing, you know." She says, using her daily greeting.

"I know." I say. She doesn't seem to be manic today, which is a relief. If she were she'd be doing something else, ranging from scratching her skin to trashing the house.

"Have you got any homework?" She asks. I shake my head.

"Nope. Thankfully I got all caught up."

"Good." Mum says. She continues knitting and smiles at me. "You're not bad, you know that? Not yet anyway."

"Mum..." I say, shaking my head. She's convinced that one day, I'll become one of "them". I don't know who "they" are, aside from the fact that "they" are everywhere. I think by "them she means normal people, but I haven't the slightest idea if that's true. "I won't turn into one of them."

"I'm sure you won't." She continues to knit, holding her eerie gaze, the slight smile never leaving her face.

"Have you taken your medicine today?" I ask, needing to know if she'll get any worse then this.

"Of course, dear. Though I don't like it." The smile leaves her face for an instant. "But I know it makes things easier on you. And I'm sure...I'm sure they aren't really real." She sounds doubtful when she says this, reluctant, like she doesn't even want to say it at all. Like she doesn't believe it, but she's trying to convince herself that it's true.

"Yes." Is all I say. I want her to think I'm neutral on the subject. I don't want her to think I'm one of "them", even though she believes I'm turning into one. Mum sighs.

"I'm sorry." She says. "You've got it hard, having to take care of someone like me." She stops knitting and looks away from me, ashamed.

I don't deny this. "It's okay." I say. She hasn't done anything today. I am reluctant to say anything else, but I want to be polite. "Oh, and, um..." I hesitate. "Matthew said hello." Her face lights up, just as I knew it would.

"Oh really? Wonderful!" She smiles again and this time it is genuine. "Tell him I said hello. And that he should come by sometimes. Poor boy is going to get polluted...if not by his brother then by one of the others." She shakes her head. "I haven't seen him in so long. He really should come by! And his brother wasn't too bad, not one of them quite yet, so I suppose he can be saved too." Mum says.

"I'm not sure that would be the best idea, mum." I say, cautious. I'm treading dangerous water here. "Don't you remember what happened?"

"Oh." Mum says. "Oh, yes." She sighs. "I don't know...I get like that sometimes and…it's..." She shakes her head again in distress, faster this time. "I just...they should still come by. At least so I can apologize. I didn't want the bugs to... it wasn't right...they shouldn't have..." She trails off and breathes faster, shaking her head over and over.

"Mum!" I say loudly, snapping her out of her trance. She looks up at me.

"Right." She says, calm now. "I wasn't in my right state of mind last year. They need to know that."

"I think Matthew does know that." I don't mention Alfred, who hates mum for what she did.

"He does? Good." She says. And with that she resumes knitting. I pat her shoulder and head to my room.

A week later, I'm sitting by the oak tree, though this time I'm eating lunch with Gilbert, Ludwig and Feliciano. I decided to become friends with them after all, if only for now.

"Veh~ That art project we just did was impossible. It was so hard. I almost thought I wouldn't finish." Feli says. He scoops up a fork full of pasta and shovels it into his mouth.

"Weren't you one of the people who finished early? I thought you said it wasn't due until Monday." Ludwig says.

"Oh, it is." Feli says through a mouthful of tomato juice covered noodles. "I just wanted to finish early so I would have some time to sleep in class." Ludwig takes a bite of his wurst, chewing thoughtfully.

"You know, you could be one of the greatest artists in the school if you applied yourself." Ludwig says. "You could even be one of the best in the district."

"Nah. That doesn't suit me." Feli says cheerfully. "I like art but..."

"You like flirting with girls and being lazy more." Ludwig says, rolling his eyes. "Of course."

"Some people would kill for your talent." Gilbert says. Then he motions to me. "Same with this guy. Arthur, you could totally graduate this year if you wanted to. You'd be going off to college at seventeen. That'd be sweet."

"No thanks. I'd rather not worry about the stress of college at the moment." I say. Gilbert shakes his head.

"Okay... I guess." He says, shrugging. Ludwig is more blunt.

"You two are both lazy." Ludwig says. "Though Feliciano is the laziest of all."

"Veeeh~" Is all Feli says. We all sit in silence for a moment, eating. Gilbert and Ludwig are eating wurst, Feli has his pasta, and I'm eating my scones. Earlier in the week, Gilbert asked me how I could eat "that crap". I honestly haven't the slightest clue what he means by that. Scones are yummy. We've all just finished lunch, and are about to talk about some random topic, when Alfred walks up. I tense a little at the look on his face. It isn't angry, really, but it isn't friendly either.

"Hello." I say. Gilbert and the others wave, though they look a bit confused.

"Hey." He replies. At least he's trying to be civil. Alfred's hands are shoved in his pockets. "So I was wondering, did you decide to do some random charity giving thing? It better not have been you, 'cause I don't want it. I don't take charity." I'm as confused as my 'friends'.

"Hold up a second. I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean?" I ask.

"It wasn't you?" Now Alfred looks confused. "Seriously, you didn't leave the...then who was it?" He mumbles to himself.

"No, I didn't leave anything anywhere. What are you talking about?" I ask. Alfred shakes his head.

"Just… never mind. It wasn't you." He says while still sounding bewildered. "Sorry for bothering you, dude." He shakes his head once more and walks off. We stare after him, each sharing equal confusion. Eventually, Gilbert decides to speak up.

"What was that all about?" He asks with a snicker.

"I have no clue." I say. Just then, the bell rings, signaling the start of AP Psychology.

**Thank you so so much for the reviews guys! I'm really grateful for them! Next up is Matthew's pov! (Matthew, we love you XD)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ah, Matthew's secret is going to be revealed! And it's only chapter five! The incident will be revealed too...hmm...this is a busy chapter. Please give me feedback! Should I change anything, make the storyline different, or something? Some things are implied in this chapter, so yeah~**

(Thursday)

Matthew

The windowpane squeaks a little as I lift it up, causing chilly air to rush inside. Silently, stealthily, I hop out. I don't make a sound as I land on the grass, close the window, and jog over to the awaiting car. The cold air doesn't help calm my stomach, if anything it makes it worse. I wonder what we're doing tonight. To lift my spirits, I remind myself of the look on Al's face when he saw the pile of money - rent - lying on the table.

"Wh-Where'd this come from?" He had asked. There was surprise, joy and relief on his face. I shrugged, feigning ignorance.

"I don't know...when I came home, it was just lying there!" I said, making myself sound surprised as well.

"Wow..." He said, awed. "I wonder who gave this to us...huh …this is awesome!" He sounded so excited and relieved in that moment, it made it all worth it. It made everything worth it. Remembering that moment makes me feel better, if only by a little bit. It reminds me that what I'm doing is for a somewhat good cause. I open the door and slide into the backseat, allowing my muscles to relax.

"Hello." Francis says. I turn to him in greeting. He's sitting behind the driver's seat. "Oh, mon ami, you look tired." He comments, reaching into his pocket for something. He pulls out a bottle of pills and cracks it open, offering two to me.

"No thanks." I shake my head while eyeing the pills warily. He should know by now that I don't do that stuff.

"Don't worry, it's just energy pills. Perfectly legal - you can get them at the drugstore. You don't even need a prescription." He pops two in his mouth and swallows them dry, while still holding his hand out to me. I stare at them, debating. The truth is I'm exhausted. I've been drinking tons of caffeine to try and keep me awake during the day, and it leaves me crashed at night. I don't know how I'll make it without an extra boost.

"Alright. Thanks, I suppose." I say as I take them from him. I swallow them dry too, wincing as they scrape down my throat. "These aren't addictive or anything, are they? No crazy side-effects?" I ask just a little too late.

"No, no. I've been taking off and on for a while now, and they really help keep me awake. They make you feel better too." Francis says, smiling. I nod.

"That's good." I say, closing my eyes and leaning into the plush seat.

"Don't fall asleep back there." Cuba's voice comes from the driver's seat. I open my eyes a bit and see him staring at me through the mirror. "You've been really busy these past couple weeks. It's been a big help. "

"Yeah." Is all I say. We drive in silence for a moment. At a red light I decide to speak up. "So what am I doing tonight?"

"You've just got a couple light delivery jobs. Nothing too difficult." He says. Cuba isn't his real name - whatever his real name is, he won't tell us - it's just his code name. It's safer that way.

"Oh. Okay." I say. I don't ask what I'm delivering. It's easier that way too, not knowing. Francis stretches his arms as much as he can and absentmindedly tugs at his long black coat.

"We've got the same place today." He says with a grin. "Ms. B."

"Huh." I can't think of anything to say. "She told me last time she was going to quit." I can't help but feel a little sad as I say this.

"Guess not." Francis says. He stares straight ahead.

"Good for business." Cuba says. Ha. Our 'business' destroys people's lives, and that's a good thing? Our boss never ceases to amaze me. We reach our stop. "You," Cuba hands me a brown bag. "Meet me at the McDonald's across the street. And you –" He turns to Francis.

"Yup. I know." Francis says a bit too quickly. "I'll meet up with you guys as soon as I can." He takes off his coat, revealing a button-up white shirt underneath. I can faintly smell a bit of Old Spice aftershave – or maybe deodorant? – as we hop out of the car. Cuba drives off casually. We go inside the old apartment building and walk up to number 302. I've been here exactly two times, and each time it just depresses me even more. Francis knocks on the wood door, and a woman of about thirty opens it. Ms. B.

"Oh, dearies!" She coos, ushering us inside. "I'm so glad you're here!" For thirty, she's beginning to look old. Her hair is already graying at the roots, and her hands tremble as she gives us both a quick hug. The scent of strong perfume wafts from inside her apartment. Like the last two times, I hide my disdain.

"Our pleasure." Francis says smoothly. He has a faint smile on his face. "You look wonderful tonight." Ms. B's cheeks turn a bit pink.

"Thank you." She turns to me, expectant. I hand her the bag and paste a smile on my face.

"Here you go, ma'am." I hand her the bag. "Is it the usual?" She knows I don't check what I deliver.

"Yes, yes." She pulls out several wadded bills from her purse. "Here you are." I count them out and stuff them in my pocket.

"Great, thanks."

"You're welcome, dear." Ms. B peers at me and smiles. "Why don't you stay too?" My shoulders stiffen. I don't say anything. "You're a very cute young man." She adds, as though this might persuade me. I still can't manage a word.

"No, no. I'm sorry. That would cost extra." Though there is a smile on his face, Francis has a dark look in his eyes. His hands are crammed in his pockets as he stares at me. He seems mad, for some reason.

"I know, but – " Ms. B says. "He could just stay and – "

"I'm sorry." The anger in Francis' eyes has reached his voice now. He sounds worried, almost. "But he can't. Canada has things he needs to do."

"Alright, Paris." Ms. B uses Francis' code name. "It was nice to see you." She says to me.

I finally find my voice. "Nice to see you too."

"See you soon." Francis's voice is calm again, tinged with relief.

"Yeah, bye." I say. I walk out the door, feeling Francis's gaze on my back until I close the door. Once I'm outside, I manage to loosen my shoulders. I am relieved that Francis covered for me, though ashamed that I couldn't manage to stand up for myself. I've always been like this. I head down the stairs, biting my lips as painful memories start to surface. I close my eyes and try to force them back, but it just makes them stronger.

_ "You're going to help Daddy today, alright? Knock on the door and give this to the man that answers, okay? Then ask him for five-fifty." My father tells me, placing the bag in my hands._

"Kay!" I _chirp._ _I'm perhaps five, carting a brown grocery bag to the door of some stranger's house. I knock on the door, just like he told me. A man opens the door. He scares me a little, but I try to be big and hand him the bag. "Five-fifty." I say cheerfully. The man checks the inside of the bag and nods._

_"Oh, so you're…. Alright." The man grunts. He hands me money; I scurry back to Daddy and give him the money. He counts it, then nods._

_"Good job. You're such a good boy." He pats my head and smiles. "Do you want to help Daddy out more often?" _

_"Sure!" _

_"Okay, but we can't tell Alfred about this. He would become very sad. It's our little secret, okay?" My father says._

_"Okay!"_

_Now I'm eight, and helping Daddy again. Only this time, I'm curious. Daddy's 'customers' as he calls them, are always very happy when they get Daddy's presents. I'm sad sometimes, and I want to be happy. What is it? I open up a bag and stick my finger in. Some of the stuff gets on my finger. I put it to my mouth and lick it, hesitantly. There is nothing at first, and then there is a horrible burning. It burns – oh – it really burns! _

_"D-D-Dad!" I scream, dropping the bag. The stuff spills everywhere and I'm scared, but it burns! My father comes running outside and sees me lying on the concrete, grabbing at my tongue. "Help!" I wail._

_"You…" His face turns red, redder, reddest. It looks like a volcano. "You _idiot!" _He screams. He grabs my arm and pulls me up, but instead of helping me he slaps my face, hard. Then again. "What the hell were you thinking? Do you know how much that costs?" He slaps me again, then lets go of my arm. He swears several times. "Goddamn it!" I hold my cheek and start to cry._

_"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…D-Dad…" I cry. My tongue hurts, but Daddy's anger hurts more. _

_"Come on." His voice is still angry. He pulls me inside, and lets me wash my mouth out. The burning still hurts, but not as bad. I feel really dizzy, so I go to sleep. When I wake up, my father gives me a lollipop and says nothing about what happened. _

_Fast foreword six years. I'm fourteen, almost fifteen. I know what it is my father – or that man – makes me deliver, but I can't do anything about it. I can't, because he told me he would hurt Al if I said anything. He'd hurt us both. Worse then he already does. He might kill us. I can't have that. So I continue to do my job, to save us both. My father walks up the steps with me this time. _

_"She's an old friend of mine." He grunts, when I ask. "I want to talk to her. Quit being so freaking nosey." I nod and he knocks on the door. A youngish looking woman with blonde hair opens it._

_"Oh, it's good to see you!" She envelops my father into a hug. "Do come in." We follow her inside. My father hands her what she ordered. _

_"Here you are." He says. _

_"Thank you!" She finally takes notice of me. "Is this your son? You taking him along?" _

_"Yup. He's a good kid." He pats my head. I scowl inwardly. Bull. _

_"Nice to meet you." I say with a smile. She smiles back, but says nothing to me. We go into the living room. _

_"My son helps out too. His work is different then yours, though." She says. I notice a boy a little older then my age sitting on the couch, a haggard look on his face. "This is Francis." She introduces us. Francis remains silent, watching us with scorn in his eyes. "Francis," She snaps. "Say hello."_

_"Hi." He mutters reluctantly. His ocean blue eyes are locked onto mine. His expression has a bored yet seductive appearance. Just by looking at him, I have a vague idea on what he does. His stare makes me feel uncomfortable. I turn my head away from him. A few seconds pass, and I sense him look away. _

_"Hey, why don't you two go run along. The adults need to talk." My father says, talking to us like we're children. The lady – she still hasn't told me her name – nods. Francis motions to me, and I follow him to his room. It is surprisingly spotless, the exact opposite of a typical teenage boy's room. He sits on his bed, and I sit on the floor. We don't say anything for a long time. _

_"So…" He has a slight accent. "You have to…deliver things?" _

_"Yes." I say. _

_"Ah." He says. "Me too." He rubs his finger over the stubble on his chin, a sad look on his face._

_"Ah." I say. We sit there and don't say anything for the remainder of the time, trapped in our private worlds of self-pity. _

After that, Francis became my best friend.

About two months later, my father was arrested. That was both the happiest and scariest day of my life. I was worried they would get me too. But they didn't. Whoever told on my dad must not have mentioned me, or perhaps by chance I wasn't on delivery that day. We were scared, though. I had just turned fifteen less then three weeks ago and Al had just turned sixteen around the same time. We didn't know how to take care of everything on our own. Arthur suggested we stay with them.

"We have plenty of room." He said.

"I don't know…that'd be a huge inconvenience." Al said. "I don't want you to get involved in our crap, dude."

"It's no problem." Arthur had said. "Just…my mum, she's a bit strange. I just thought you should know that."

"Can't be stranger then our family." Al laughed. Arthur frowned and offered a half-hearted chuckle.

"I'm not sure about that." He said. And with that, we moved in.

_A week after that, I'm sitting on the couch. By now I've realized that Arthur's mom, Mrs. Kirkland, is a little more then just a little strange, but it doesn't bother me. I think I might be a little crazy too. My mind is a wreck lately, and I'm terrified that the cops are going to show up any day and take me to jail. I'm not a bad kid – I'm not! I just couldn't say no…they have to understand that!_

_"Are you alright?" Arthur's mom sits down by me. _

_"Um… yeah." I smile._

_"Don't be one of them." She scolds me. "Now, are you alright?" _

_"K-Kind of. Not really." I lower my eyes and stare at my lap. _

_"There are bugs in your heart?" It's a question. I stare at her. _

_"Um…" _

_"I have bugs in me. They crawl all over…" She whimpers a little and scratches at her skin. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me. "Do you have bugs in you?"_

_"I-I dunno. D-Do I?" I stammer, not wanting to offend her. She looks at me some more, analyzing me, before shaking her head. _

_"No, not yet. But they are starting to form." Her voice goes soft. "You're a good child – you don't deserve bugs." Her statement unnerves me; even though I know I don't have bugs in me, there is so much conviction in her voice that I almost believe it. _

_"Oh… How can I…How can I get them out?" I ask. She claps her hands._

_"I have a special potion that can help you! I'm working on it right now!" And with that, she stands up and quickly walks off. A few days later, she hands me a strange looking liquid. _

_"What...?" I ask, staring at it. _

_"A potion to help." She says proudly. "Let's test it." She holds her own glass and drinks. I take a small sip. It tastes disgusting, but I don't want to be rude, so I drain the whole thing. That first time, it does nothing. _

_Alfred and Arthur are off working summer jobs and hanging out. I've nothing better to do, so I help Mrs. Kirkland out around the house. And she helps me with my 'bug' problem. The drinks she makes continue to get weirder and weirder, with their strange light green color and funky taste, but they actually help me feel better. I begin to feel happier, like there are good things in life too, aside from just the bad. I smile more and laugh more, and it's all real, instead of fake-just-going-through-the-motions. I feel _alive.

_But I guess my body must adjust to it, because one a day just isn't doing the trick. I have to drink two or three just to feel a little bit happy, and I'm starting to hate myself again. Noticing my problem, Mrs. Kirkland mixes different potions, and we try them out. She hands me her latest invention, and I take it. It looks a bit different from the others. It is darker, and looks thicker then the others. I ignore the feelings of warning in my stomach and drink it all. Minutes after my last swallow, something happens. I can _feel _the bugs crawling inside me, they are alive and moving and…and they _won't come out. _I start to scratch at my skin. _

_"W-What's wrong?" Arthur's mom asks. I ignore her and dig my nails into my arm. My skin feels like it's melting. I look down and I can see bumps moving underneath my skin. The room looks fuzzy. I blink hard, but the feeling won't go away. "What's wrong?" She insists, panic setting in on her voice. _

_"I-I…ah…I can feel them!" I'm starting to get hysterical. "The…the bugs." I scratch harder. It's no use. They aren't they aren't they aren't coming out! I run into the kitchen and pull out a knife. I have to have to get them out! They need to come out! The first slice causes just a thin sliver, and I can see black underneath the red. "Get out!" I slice deeper, faster, the bugs spill out along with my blood – cockroaches, spiders, maggots, - covered in my blood. They still aren't all gone – go away! No! I rock back and forth and start to cut my other arm. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it…it…._

_That's when I passed out. Or something. I honestly don't remember what happened after that. _

I blink. The painful memories vanish. I exhale. I have never been able to say no. To stand up for myself. That, I suppose, is my fatal flaw. I shake my head and continue to walk to McDonalds.

**End of Chapter five~ Next will be Alfred's pov again! Again, feedback would be nice!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm sorry for the late post! Life's been a little busy at the moment! Well, it's from Alfred's POV! Please give feedback~ **

(Sunday)

Alfred

He was sitting in his own blood, screaming over and over. That's what I remember the most about that day. He was screaming, cutting himself with that butcher knife, and Arthur's mom…she was just standing there. Watching him. I've never been so angry in my life. I ran over and tried to get him to calm down, but he wouldn't. He was delirious.

"What the hell happened?" I screamed at Mrs. Kirkland. She shook her head.

"The bugs…It wasn't supposed to…no…" She let out a wail. Shaking, Arthur ran over and dialed 911. I continued to try and get Matthew to tell me what was wrong.

"What happened, Mattie? What happened?" I demanded. "C'mon, just tell me…"

"It hurts…I can't…s-s-s-spiders…I want to…want to…want…" His words became incoherent babbling. Mattie's face was so pale, like a ghost's, and his eyes were rolling in his head. He choked, turned his head, and threw up. There was blood in the vomit. I remember that too.

"Arthur!" I yelled, my panic increasing tenfold.

"They're coming! It'll just be a few minutes!" He told me. Those few minutes felt like hours. When the paramedics arrived, I was almost as hysterical as Matthew was.

"What did he take?" They asked. I had no idea what they were talking about.

"I don't know!" They were loading him on a stretcher, saying something about his pulse.

"I gave him a drink…" Arthur's mom whispered.

"What was it?" One asked fiercely. Arthur's mom bowed her head meekly and didn't reply. "What did you – "

"She can tell us at the hospital! We have to hurry!" Another said. Arthur and I followed him to the ambulance while Mrs. Kirkland sat on the couch, looking stricken.

"You can't come." The man said.

"He's my brother!" I protested.

"You can't come." He repeated. Arthur frowned at him.

"We might be able to help…please." Arthur asked. The paramedic stared at us.

"Fine. Stay out of the way, though." He sighed. The inside of the ambulance was crowded. We were huddled in a corner. After several quick turns, we reached the hospital. They unloaded Matthew and carted him inside quickly. Once inside, Matthew started convulsing.

"He's seizing!" A doctor said.

"Lost a lot of blood…"

"What did he take?" A doctor demanded, turning to us. I flinched as I sat down in a chair.

"I don't know." We both said at the same time.

"My mother…she likes to mix things together sometimes. Maybe she accidentally gave it to Matthew and…S-She's schizophrenic, you see…" Arthur sounded hoarse.

"Does she do this all the time?" His voice was accusing. "Is she manic?" Translation: Should she be locked up for endangering someone like this?

"N-No…" Arthur faltered. The doctor turned to me for my assent. Arthur looked at me too, his eyes wide and scared, pleading with me. I hated her. Dear God, if she did this to Matthew then she deserved to die. She deserved to be locked up. But my voice betrayed me, betrayed Matthew.

"No. She's usually very calm. I don't think she would normally do this." I said, hating myself. Arthur gave a quiet sigh of relief. The doctor stood there and tapped his chart.

"I see." He said eventually. "Well, we'll help your brother." He told me. I nodded and he walked off.

"Thanks." Arthur murmured. "And I…I'm…"

"Don't." I stared at a wall, looking for cracks. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to take a bat and hit Mrs. Kirkland with it, bash her brains out. "Just…quit." If he continued to talk I might have exploded.

"But – "

"Arthur!"

"S-Sorry…" He whispered. I turned my attention from the wall for a moment. He was biting his lip, a scared expression on his face. I didn't pity him. I still don't, not really.

"We're leaving." I said, so low even I could barely hear it. He lifted his shoulders.

"All right." He stared at me with silent dismay. I stared back, cold and unfeeling. He looked away. I stood up and went to go see Matthew.

They never found out what was all in the drink, but from what the paramedics and cops discovered from the remains in the glass there was…

Alcohol of all sorts

Crushed anti-depressants…at least four times the normal dosage

A teaspoon of bleach, possibly more

And at least three other hazardous chemicals

That woman gave that…stuff….that potion, to my brother even though _everyone _knows that kind of crap can kill you! And she didn't even apologize, didn't even try to stop him from chopping himself to bits. _She just stood there. _And that's why I can't forgive her. I can't forgive Arthur either, and I can't forgive myself for leaving Mattie with her. He could have died, and none of us did anything to help.

***** (Sunday)

Sweat pours down my face as I cut up a piece of wood. I clear my throat and swing the axe again, splitting the wood clean in half.

"Hey, thanks for the help." The man who hired me to cut up firewood says. He still hasn't told me his name, but whatever, I'm getting paid. I'll just call him "Mr. Wood"

"No problem." I huff, finally allowing my rigid fingers to release the axe handle. It clatters to the ground with a muffled thump.

"I know a few other people who might need yer help, too, if yer willing. Couple a' different jobs, rake lawns, mow lawns, etc." He's chewing loudly on something. Tobacco, I'm guessing. He doesn't look like a Juicy Fruit kind of guy.

"Really? Yeah, I don't mind. I'll pretty much do whatever. I need the money." I say, trying to get some feeling back into my fingers.

"Yeah, I know how it is. Economy sucks lately. Cocky president whashisface been spending all our money on the _Russians. _The _Russians._" Mr. Wood repeats. I've got no qualms against the Russians – and I really haven't been paying attention to politics – so I can't see why he's getting so worked up.

"What did the Russians do?" I ask, only mildly curious.

"Haven't you heard of those communists?! They almost started a nuclear war!" Mr. Wood literally gapes at me. Literally, because he's missing several of his teeth. The nuclear 'war' was at least forty years ago, and we never even fought them, not directly anyway. But I hate communists too.

"Oh. That's right." I say. I don't want to get him going on a rant, so I quickly say goodbye. He hands me a twenty and a bottle of stale water and sends me on my way.

I walk a little while, sipping my stale water, before I reach home. I have been clutching the twenty dollars tight in my fist the entire way. I've done a couple of odds and ends jobs to try and earn some money, but it hasn't been doing much. I can barely afford groceries and my phone bill. The prospect of rent and all the other bills, three and a half weeks away, constantly gnaws at my stomach. I feel a bit of envy; I shouldn't have to do this! I'm seventeen! I should be out partying or dating chicks or working at Burger King for extra spending money, not worrying about paying bills or taking care of the house. But I guess whatever life deals you, you have to just go along with it. I sigh, cram the damp twenty in my pocket, and open the door.

"I'm home!" I shout. Silence greets me. Frowning, I go into the living room and find a note. _Went out for a little bit. Be back soon. –Matthew. _Where would he have to go? I'm not trying to be rude, but my brother really isn't the active type. I shake my head in bewilderment, feeling slightly worried, and sit down on the couch. I snatch up the remote and flick on the TV. It looks like Bunny Ears is going to work today. I aimlessly change the channels.

"No, Romeo, do – "

"Touchdown! That was incredi – "

"Today on 11 Ne – "

"[Static]"

"AAAAHHHHH!" I stop once I hear a horrified scream. A horror movie? I stare intently at the screen. A boy, maybe my age, is strapped to a table. Another teenager – who looks strikingly similar to the first – walks up to him. He is holding a knife.

_"__Wh-What did I do? What did I do? Stop, please! Stop!" The first boy pleads. The one holding the knife laughs. _

_"__Stop? Why? This is fun." He says. He takes the knife and begins to carve into the other's arm. The boy screams. _It hurts my ears, so I turn the TV down.

An hour later, I flick off the TV, dismayed that I wasted my time watching such a dull movie. Basically, the movie was about a twin who felt invisible, constantly in his brother's shadow. One day he grew sick of it all and decided to torture his brother as well as anyone else who ignored him. It turns out that he had a somewhat screwed up childhood, too, 'cause his father constantly forgot about him. Anyway, in the end, the cops finally figure out that it was the younger twin who was torturing/killing all these people and they decide he's too crazy to go to jail, so they send him to a mental hospital where he spends the rest of his days. The end. The plot was creepy, but kind of stupid. The only thing I'll say is that the blood and guts looked real, which was cool. It was the stereotypical slasher film. I'd give it a three out of five.

"Hello?" I hear Matthew's voice from the hallway.

"Hey." I call, hopping up from the couch. "Where were you?"

"Out." He replies vaguely. "Um, Francis wanted to go get some burgers, so I decided to go with him." He holds out a bag filled with greasy food from Wendy's. "Here. I got you some too."

"Sweet! I was wondering what I was going to do for dinner!" I say. I open the bag and begin munching on a hamburger. "I didn't think going to Wendy's would take over an hour, though."

"Yeah. We got sidetracked." Mattie says quickly. "Sorry I didn't let you know earlier."

"Nah, that's okay." I say. "I was just bored out of my mind."

"What did you do?" Mattie asks.

"Nothing. Just watched a stupid movie." I say with my mouth full.

"Oh." Mattie nods. He looks in the direction of his bedroom. "Well, I'm gonna go to bed."

"What? But it's only 8:00!" I swallow a bite of hamburger.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm really tired and I have a test tomorrow." Matthew rubs his eyes.

"Well, okay then." I'm a little confused, but I'm glad he's trying to keep his grades up. "See you tomorrow."

"Uh-huh." He's already closing the door to his room. I finish my hamburger and crumple my wrapper, tossing it in the trashcan.

*************** Tuesday

My eyes are forced open by the sound of my alarm clock. Damn. I forgot to turn it off last night. I glare blearily at the numbers. The clock says it's only four thirty. I sigh and roll over in my bed, listening to the rain fall against the window. Maybe I can still sleep for a few more hours. A banging sound causes me to open my eyes again.

"What was that?" I mumble. I fumble for my glasses. I swing my legs over the bed and shuffle across the room. My finger flicks the light switch. The sudden brightness causes me to squint even more. I yawn. Another loud bang jolts my senses. I'm more alert now. "Is someone trying to break in?" I whisper, looking around the dark hallway. I poke my head into the kitchen, see nothing, and go out into the living room. Nothing is there. Feeling slightly alarmed, I turn around and walk back into the hallway, passing my bedroom and the bathroom. I knock lightly on my brother's door.

"Mattie?" I ask. "Matthew, are you awake?" A faint light shines from under the doorway. There's no response. "Mattie?" I repeat. Nothing. I open the door.

"Wha-?" Matthew whirls around in surprise. In his hands are pieces of ceramic. Ceramic bits are on the floor, too. The wind blows from the open window, ruffling his hair. "What are you doing?" He asks, tone still startled.

"I heard a crash. Are you okay?" I ask.

"Y-Yeah." He relaxes a bit. "Sorry. It was getting hot, so I went to open the window. But I accidentally knocked down my bear bank in the process…" He holds out the shards with a look of dismay.

"Aw, no way! That's Kuma?" I gasp. He sighs.

"Yeah." He says. When he was younger, Matthew used to have a bear bank, which is obviously like a piggy bank, but in bear form. He could never decide on a name for that thing. One day it was Kumatan, the next day Kumajiro, the day after that Kumaemon. Eventually, he settled on just Kuma. I know he always loved that bear, so it must have been upsetting to have it break like that.

"Man, I'm sorry. Maybe we could fix it up." I offer. "We could use some super glue or something…"

"No, that's okay." Mattie says. He hesitates, then shakes his head. "No…it's fine. I'll just throw him away."

"You sure?" I ask, sympathetic yet relieved. The bear looks like it would be really difficult to put back together. Impossible, even.

"I'm sure." He says. Mattie picks up the remaining pieces and carts them to the trash. They hit the bottom of the can with a thump. He wipes his hands on his jeans, straightens out his blue shirt, and then looks at me.

"Hey, why are you wearing your clothes this early in the morning?" I say, looking closer.

"Huh? Oh, no reason. I-I woke up early and couldn't fall back to sleep, so I figured I'd just get dressed." Mattie says, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh." I nod. I've just noticed something. "Makes sense." My grin wavers a little. I turn to leave. "Well, I'm still tired, so I'm gonna go to bed."

"Okay. S-sorry for waking you up." Mattie apologizes.

"No problem." I laugh lightly, feeling confused but pretending like I'm not confused. Pretending like I didn't just see mud on the cuffs of his jeans. And pretending that I don't know that Matthew's lying. That he's hiding something.

I lie in bed for a while, unable to go to sleep. Why would he lie to me? We always tell each other the truth! What if it's something bad? I bite my lip and listen to the rain. It's nothing. I tell myself. He probably just went out for a walk or something.

"Well, what else could a kid like him do?" I murmur to myself, chuckling a little. "Seriously." I feel better by this realization, that someone like Mattie couldn't really do anything bad. He's not the type of person to go to parties and drink – if anyone is, it's me – and he wouldn't steal either. Again…I'd be more likely to do something like that. He's fine. I sigh, relieved. With that settled, I reset my alarm to six-thirty and manage to doze off.

All of my classes are boring, per usual. I check out another book from Mrs. Nyrale – I finally finished the one I got a couple of weeks ago – and start reading that at lunch. I'm just starting to get into the story when someone smacks the book against my face.

"Whatcha reading?" Francis asks. My glasses are crooked and my face hurts. I readjust my glasses and glare at him.

"It's called a book." I say, irritated.

"I can see that." Francis says. "But what's it called?"

"Read the title and maybe you can figure it out." I snap.

"Why don't you read it to me?" Francis smirks, clearly enjoying this.

"You can read it for yourself!" I say, growing angry.

"Ummm…" Honda's voice breaks through our argument. "Please, don't fight. It is just a book."

"Yeah." Mattie adds. "Calm down, Al." I turn my glare towards him. He's supposed to be defending me!

"I'm calm." I huff, opening the book again and scowling at the pages.

"Sorry." Francis says. "I just didn't think you ever read. I just wanted to know if it was _The Little Engine That Could _or something." I grip the book tighter.

"Francis." Honda warns. He and Mattie exchange a look that probably means: 'why can't these two ever get along?'

"Sorry, sorry." Francis chuckles. "Oh, mon dieu_, _I'm tired." He sighs.

"Why?" I ask in an attempt at being polite. It comes out sharper then I intended.

"I was up late." He replies vaguely.

"Doing what?" Honda asks. "I mean, if you want to tell us. You don't have to." He adds.

Since Francis has been joking with me, I decide to joke back. "He was probably entertaining his girlfriend, right?" I snicker good-naturedly. I look up to see his reaction. Francis flinches and an odd look crosses his face.

"Right." He laughs a second later. If I didn't know better, I'd think it sounds forced. But it's Francis we're talking about. "I was. It was your girlfriend." He smirks tauntingly.

"Dude, I don't have a girlfriend." I say, smirking back. "So I don't know who you were doing. You sure it wasn't your mom?" Again, it seems like Francis hesitates. But he's back on his feet a split second later.

"Non, non. At least, I hope not. I'd really hate it if my mom was your girlfriend. You're too ugly for her." He laughs. I laugh back.

"Uh-huh. Your mom would date me if she knew me. All the ladies love me."

"Like hell she would." Francis's smile goes even bigger. "And you aren't that cute, sorry. Most girls I know don't go for pissy delinquents." His smile fades, he turns away from me and mumbles something quietly. "Aside from my mom, anyway."

"What?" I pretend like I didn't hear him, to be polite.

"Nothing. Your girlfriend's a good kisser, you know." Francis puckers his lips teasingly. I laugh and playfully punch him on the shoulder. Honda and Matthew are staring at us like, um, what?

"I should know." I say, though I'm starting to get a bit annoyed. Not a whole lot – just a bit. This conversation reminds me how small and limited my dating life is. Kinda hard to have a girlfriend and take her out on dates when you have school, a house, and bills to take care of. Francis stands up suddenly.

"Well, it's been fun messing with you – and you're being a really good sport, surprisingly – but I have to go. Sorry." Francis apologizes. His head down, he briefly glances at Mattie. "See you later." He says.

Mattie nods hesitantly. "Do you…um…" Francis shakes his head to whatever Matthew was going to ask. "Alright. See you later." He says.

"Goodbye." Honda says.

"Bye." I say, thinking that Francis might not be such a bad guy. When he's not being an utter jerk-know-it-all, he's not so bad. But then Francis says something that makes me dislike him again.

"Have fun reading _The Little Engine That Could. _Choo-choo!" He says to me. I glare at him and start to throw in a retort, but he's gone before I can think of a good one. I sigh heavily.

"What a jerk." I snort.

"He's okay." Honda says, pulling a Switzerland. Matthew focuses on sipping his milk and says nothing at first.

"Hey, um…so…we're going to the Blue Orange after school. Do either of you want to come?" He asks, swallowing. This is news to me.

"Sure." I say, even though I was hoping to look for a solid job. I guess I need a break every once in a while.

"I would like that. I'll see if I can come." Honda says.

"Okay. So, ah…text Francis if you can." Mattie replies. The lunch bell rings, ending our conversation.

I sigh, not looking foreword to my classes. I gotta at least try to get good grades, though. It's not like I _want _to fail school. In Social Studies, I learn about – whoo-hoo, Russia. The creepy place chock full of scary winters and communism. Not exactly fun to learn about. Computer class is boring too – we're practicing our typing. What does our teacher take us for, three year olds? The other classes, I don't really know what happened in them. I zone out through all of them.

After school, I walk down the street to the Blue Orange, one of the most popular Smoothie/frozen yogurt/ ice cream places in town. I only have a couple of dollars on me – the rest is safe at home – but I know I'm going to buy smoothie. Losing a dollar or two won't really change whether or not I manage to pay the rent on time.

I walk into the restaurant, comforted by the familiar fruity sweet scents. My mouth waters as I imagine gulping down an entire freezing cold Raspberry-Cherry Smoothie. Even though it's the nearing the middle of November, I still love a good smoothie. Almost as much as I love hamburgers. I spot Honda and Francis sitting at a booth, already slurping on their own drinks. I walk up to the counter, order a Raspberry-Cherry, and sit down once I receive my drink.

"Hey." I say.

"Hello." Honda says.

"Where's Mattie?" I can't help but asking.

"He had to finish some things. He told me he'd meet us here in a minute." Francis says. He takes a drink of his slushy. It looks like cherry or watermelon, judging by the color.

"Oh, okay." I say, drinking my own drink and fidgeting with the change in my pocket. "Oh my God, this thing is amazing." I grin despite myself.

"What kind did you get?" Honda asks.

"Raspberry-Cherry." I say.

"Ah. I ordered Grape, but they gave me Pomegranate instead." Honda says. He twirls the straw around in his smoothie. It makes a huge hole that slowly disappears as the smoothie oozes back into place.

"Why don't you tell them they made a mistake?" I ask.

"Just tell them you made a mistake." Francis says a few seconds after me.

"No, no, no. It's perfectly all right. I-I like pomegranate too." Honda stares at the smoothie with a look that might be considered disdainful. As he takes a drink, his eye twitches.

"You sure?" I ask doubtfully. He swallows hard and nods.

"Yes. I am just not used to the flavor yet. It's good, just different." Honda says.

"Okay…" I shrug. If he wants to torture himself by drinking a smoothie that he hates, then I guess he can go ahead. The bell dings and I look up, expecting it to be Matthew. It's not him. Instead, Gilbert and his friends come in.

"So this chick walks up to me, right? And I'm like, you know just messing around 'cause I'm awesome like that. So I'm all 'Hey, sexy.' Purposely acting cheesy, you know? And she looks at me, and she's all: 'Is it hot in here, or is it just you?' That's the corniest line I've _ever _heard, I swear. So anyway, I ask her out and she says yes and we go on a date, and she keeps on saying the weirdest and stupidest crap, so in the end I dump her after our first date." Gilbert's talking so fast I can barely understand what he's saying.

"You're so smooth, Gil." Ludwig says sarcastically.

"Yeah, that's why you don't say stupid stuff first." Feliciano adds. "Trust me, I know."

"Your girlfriends end up dumping you because you're such a pansy." Ludwig says. Feliciano wilts a little.

"Heeey, that's mean!" He whines. Arthur watches the spectacle with a look that's somewhere between amusement and disdain.

"Tch. I didn't really want to go out with her anyway. I was just bored." Gilbert says, rolling his eyes.

"Wow. Did you at least give her a decent time?" Ludwig asks.

"We kissed a couple of times, but that's all. And I bought her a crapload of stuff, because I am awesome. She thanked me at the end – even after I dumped her – for buying her a new diamond bracelet. She didn't seem hurt at all." Gilbert shrugs.

"Rich people." The guy at the counter scoffs, apparently listening in to their conversation just like I am. Gilbert hands him some money – it rings up as fifty dollars.

"Keep the change as your tip." Gilbert says smoothly. The counter guy's face lights up.

"Thanks!" He switches sides immediately. I feel disgusted just watching them. Here Gilbert is, throwing money around like it's nothing, while I'm worrying about whether spending a few extra bucks will mean I end up on the streets because I didn't pay my rent. I scowl deeply and suck on my melting smoothie.

"Oh, right. You want to go out with Elizaveta. I almost forgot." Ludwig says as they get their smoothies and sit down at a booth near us.

"W-well, yeah. But that stupid Roderich is freaking dating her. I asked her out first, but she just downright refused and asked out that idiotic piano player the next day. I could kill him. He's ruining my awesomeness." Gilbert stabbed his straw into his smoothie and took a huge drink. His little bird fluttered down and put its feet on the glass rim, nipping quick bites of the smoothie. Gilbert petted it.

"Huh." Ludwig says, seeming to grow bored with all the gossiping.

"You just gotta charm her! Charm her! Say she's so lovely, and there's no one else like her in the whole world." Feliciano says eagerly. Gilbert just stares at him.

"Whatever." He sighs eventually. "You've been pretty quiet, Arthur. Got anything on your mind?"

"Huh?" Arthur asks blankly. "O-Oh, no. Sorry. It's just…I should probably be getting home. My mum isn't feeling well."

I clench my fists and suck air through the straw. The rich people talk irritated me, but if they're going to talk about _her, _I'm leaving. Even though I'm not supposed to be listening to their conversation anyway. Whatever.

"Uh-oh. Is she sick? We can stop by the store and grab her some Motrin or Ibuprofen or something." Gilbert says. Arthur hesitates and shakes his head.

"No…she already has medicine. She just…I really should be getting home." Arthur says. He stands up and grabs his slushy.

"Okay." Gilbert says reluctantly. "Tell your mom I said feel better. See ya."

"Bye." Arthur says, walking over to the door. He opens it and starts to walk out, bumping into someone. "Sorry." He mutters.

"It's okay." I notice that Mattie is finally here. Arthur leaves, while Mattie glances around, finally spotting our table.

"…Right, Al?" Francis asks me, and I realize that Honda and Francis have been talking this whole time.

"Uh, what?" I ask.

"I knew you were eavesdropping." Francis smirks. "Oh, Matthew, you're here!" Matthew sits down beside Francis.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to finish up some schoolwork." Mattie apologizes quietly.

"It's good that you could make it." Francis says. I nod. We start talking about random stuff, and it feels good to just hang out and relax.

**Chapter 7 will be from Arthur's pov again! Please rate and review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the extremely late post! I've been kind of busy lately! Anyway, now it's Arthur's pov! By the way, I'm having terrible writer's block at the moment - I know the next chapter's going to be from Matthew's POV, but it's going by very slowly. If you have any ideas (I may or may not use them because I have a vague idea on what I want to do next, it's mainly a matter of transition and sloooowness) I'd love to hear them! **

Arthur (Tuesday)

I walk home, my muscles stiff. She must be worrying by now – either that or maybe she never even noticed I was gone. In any case, it was wrong for me to even consider going to the Blue Orange. Mum has been really wayward these past few days – once minute she's laughing, the next she'll be screaming about how 'they' are coming to get her. For all I know, she could be trying to harm herself right now. The thought makes me run, not walk, to the house. I love her to death, but…but I hate worrying about her all the time. I have things to worry about too, besides her. There's school, and bills, and the Student Council, and myself. It can just get really stressful occasionally.

I arrive home and use my key to open the door. "Mum?" I call hesitantly.

"Arthur?" She calls back in the same tone. She walks into the hallway. Triangle. I think before I can stop myself. Her face looks like a triangle. I blink.

"Um, yes?" I ask. I've been doing that lately – relating things that don't really have a definite shape to actual shapes like triangles or circles. It's strange.

"Come in here. I made dinner." Mum says. I follow her into the kitchen. Sure enough, she's made fish and chips, along with some dinner rolls to go with it. I smile.

"Looks really good, mum." I say. She blushes and turns her head away slightly.

"Thankyou." It comes out quick, like it's just one word. "It starts with the buzzing." She adds. My mood dampens a bit, but only slightly.

"I know." I say, Her eyes, green like mine, are wide. She stares at me.

"You won't forget that?" She asks.

"I won't." I reply.

"Promise?" She insists.

"I promise." I nod. I walk over to the square table and sit down. The fish bits looks like little ovals. "Let's eat." I say. I begin to eat. Mum sits down across from me and eats too. If someone were to look inside our house and see us, they'd think we were a normal, happy family. Maybe they'd reason that the father was at work, or something. The mother was in her pyjamas because she had a long day at work. They wouldn't know that the father left as soon as I was conceived, and that the mother is a psychotic schizophrenic who is currently unable to work. They would never guess those things. I sigh and take a bite of fish. It tastes a little bland and gritty, but that's to be expected for fish that came from the supermarket.

"So how did you do in school today?" Mum asks.

"Good." I say. "I got an A on my Calculus test."

Mum smiles. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." I say. And for a moment, I'm worried she might add '_just don't become one of them', _but she doesn't say anything else. She simply continues eating. We eat in silence for a while.

"The weather channel says it might snow." I say eventually, just to break the silence.

Mum's face lights up. She loves the snow. "Really?"

"Yeah. They aren't sure when, but a pressure system is moving in, so…yeah. It should snow sometime this week."

"That's wonderful." Mum says happily. She takes a bite of her fish, looking like she wants to say more.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I think I might start writing a book again." Mum says. "I mean, so long as I stay on my m-medication, it should be okay, right?"

I can't hide my look of surprise. "O-Of course." I stammer happily. "You love to write. I think that's a wonderful idea." Books are square. I can't help but think. I shake that thought away and nod enthusiastically. "Yes, it's a wonderful idea. You're an amazing author."

Mum smiles. "I think I'll give it a go. Writing has helped before, I just didn't realize it." Her smile loosens a bit. "I can go a bit crazy when I'm not on my medication, but it feels...it feels like…like everyone else is wrong and I'm the only one who knows the truth. Or, not quite. Um… it feels like everybody is plotting against me _because _I know the truth about them. About people in general. And the b-bugs, too." Mum shakes her head, trying to explain.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just want you to understand what it's like when I'm…I'm like that. It's not that I hate you, it's just that – er – I worry about you becoming like them. You know, plotting against me. That thought terrifies me more than anything else. And I become a little irrational. So, I'm sorry if I scare you." Mum sighs sadly.

"It's okay. Really, I know you don't hate me." I say in a kind tone. I know she doesn't, too. There's just something wrong with her brain that I can't grasp.

"So I've decided I'm going to try and take my meds every day. It'll be hard because sometimes I feel as though they put bugs inside the medication to control my brain and make me turn into one of them. Right now I know that's not true, but tomorrow, or the next day…I could think otherwise. I don't know if I can stick to it, but I'm really going to try. I like having these dinners and talks with you." Mum smiles again. When Mum smiles, it feels as though everything is going to be okay.

"Yeah, I like it too. And I'll help you in any way I can." I say, my mood bright. I'm not too optimistic, just hopeful. Mum has given nearly this exact same speech before, and it didn't work out then. But I know she'll try, at least. And right now, that's good enough for me.

"Okay." Mum says. She stands up and helps me clear the table. "Well, I'm going to go write. Do you mind washing the dishes?"

"Not at all." I've already started scrubbing one of the plates with a sponge. Mum leaves the room.

As I'm scrubbing the plates, I think the water droplets look like hexagons.

(Wednesday)

I toss my assignment into the bin and mentally pat myself on the back. That essay was pretty good, if I do say so myself. I'll have to celebrate by going to the Blue Orange with Gilbert and the others later today. If only for a few minutes. Gilbert runs up behind me.

"Ugh…that essay sucked." He groans.

"Really? I thought it wasn't too bad."

"Of course you did, genius. Even so, the awesome me still did an awesome job. Because I am awesome." Gilbert's voice lowers for a second. "At least, I hope so."

"I'm sure you did fine, mate."

"You're one to talk. You probably got an A + +!" Gilbert says, eyebrows' knitting in frustration, though the same cocky grin doesn't leave his face.

"There's no such grade." I retort.

"If there was, you'd get it." Gilbert says.

"Doubtful." I say, though I smile at the compliment.

"Oh really? What's the lowest grade you've ever gotten?"

I hesitate. "A B-. In seventh grade. I sprained my ankle in PE and the teacher wouldn't let me make up the missed days."

Gilbert gapes at me for a moment. "What the hell? See! That's exactly what I mean!" He throws his hands up in the air. Then he walks out the door. I tag along, embarrassed.

"You get good grades too, Gilbert."

"Yeah, yeah – I'm awesome like that – but still!" He sighs loudly, walking a few paces ahead of me. "B-….A freakin' B - ….? What the hell!" He glances back and I see he has a faint smile on his face.

A noise down the hall distracts me. I glance over in the direction of the sound, and I see a vending machine. That must be the source of the noise. I tune it out and resume listening to Gilbert. "Haha….sorry." I say.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Gilbert shrugs. Ludwig comes out of a classroom in front of us. "Oi, West! Whatcha doin?"

"I just finished math." He says.

"West is in AP Calculus like you. He's hoping to be an engineer when he grows up." Gilbert says.

"But my father wants me to be a psychologist, just like him." Ludwig rolls his eyes. "No thanks."

"I'd have thought you wanted to join the military." I say, surprised.

"Really?" Ludwig pauses thoughtfully. "Maybe some day. I don't know."

"You act kind of like a military officer." I say. "Like a commander or something."

"Huh."

The conversation dulls and we walk down the hall in silence, listening to the hub of teens around us. For a second, I think I hear that weird vending machine noise again, but I conclude it was probably just someone's phone because there aren't any vending machines around. Heaven knows why someone would want that sound as their ringtone.

It takes forever to get from one place to another in a school this crowded, but we finally walk into the cafeteria doors. As I'm inching my way inside, someone brushes my shoulder.

"Sorry." I say reflexively without glancing up.

The person scoffs. "Screw you."

I finally look up and notice that it's Bill. I'd forgotten about what I'd done to him two and a half weeks ago. He glares down at me – he's kind of tall, I hate to admit – with a look of venomous rage. His knee is in one of those bandages for minor sprains.

I choke down the mild feeling of apprehension that flares up and stare back at him with an indifferent expression. "Hullo, Bill."

"Don't you 'hullo' me, douche. Not after what you did." Bill's ugly face contorts into an even uglier snarl.

I can't help but look down at his knee again. "My apologies. But you know that beating up other students is strictly against the rules. I didn't mean to hurt your knee so badly." I say, my voice calm and collected. I don't give a damn about his knee, but I still say this to keep the peace.

Gilbert and Ludwig are watching with wary interest, both appearing ready to intervene if things go wrong. I guess it pays to have friends.

"I'm not talking about that." Bill says.

"You're not? I didn't do anything else to you." I say, very puzzled.

"Oh, yeah right. You know exactly what I'm talking about." Bill scoffs again, sending a misty spray of spit drizzling near my face. I take a step back.

"No. I don't." I'm starting to get a little irritated. What on earth is he talking about?

"You can't tell me you forgot."

"Forgot _what?_" I snap, my patience thin.

"You had your little boyfriend go beat up my guys, didn't ya?" Bill asks, leaning forward in my face. His hand shoots out and he pins me against the wall. My head smacks against the hard plaster. I cringe and see spots for a moment. My bag falls to the ground.

"_What_?" What the hell is he talking about?

"Art." Gilbert says, looking ready to punch Bill.

"I'm okay." I manage through my utter confusion.

"He beat 'em with a bat. The teachers don't know who did it, but you and I both know it was him, right? It was about a week ago. Broke Jim's arm. Were you too pansy to do it yourself or what? You fought me man to man, but you're little boyfriend couldn't handle the fact that he's a wuss, so he went and beat them, yeah?" Bill growls.

My mind is a blank for a moment as I try to register what's being said. Then, once it does all click into place, my face burns. I shiver with rage. "First of all, Alfred isn't my boyfriend. I'm not gay. And secondly, I don't think he's the type of person to go swinging a bat around hurting people. How do you even know it was him, huh? How do you even know he had a bat? Did your guys tell you that it was him?" My voice is harsh, yet controlled.

"No. They wouldn't tell me anything." Bill admits, scowling. He takes a step backwards.

"So how do you know?" I ask. I feel Gilbert and Ludwig step directly behind Bill, offering me support.

"Because." Bill wavers for a second, clearly outnumbered. He releases my shirt and his hand falls limply at his side. "It's obvious…" He says. "Who else would do such a pansy thing?"

"Oh, I don't know, _Mr. Obyrockling._ Could it be the unlimited amount of people in this school who hate your guts because you're such a huge bully? You aren't well-liked in this school, you know." I say, my tone laced with acid.

"Tch." Is all he says.

"Oh." I lower my voice and take a bold step forward. "And by the way, if you even try to retaliate by harming Alfred, his brother, or myself…" I exhale and continue. "I will tell a teacher, but not before I hurt you ten times more then the damage you caused."

"I will too. Leave Art alone. He didn't do a damn thing." Gilbert says. Ludwig stays silent, but he nods, eyes narrowed.

Bill's face changes for a split second, and there is fear in his face. He knows I can beat him up already, and Gilbert and Ludwig are two well known delinquents in the school. Then his face returns to its normal scowl. "Whatever." He lumbers off.

I can't move for a second. My face is pale from the accusation. I don't think Alfred would do that – I really don't – over some trivial matter. That's why I defended him so fiercely. Alfred just isn't the type of person to go beating people with weapons. Granted, he has some anger issues he needs to work out, but they aren't that serious. And there's no way I would ask him to do such a thing – we aren't even friends. Bill's suspicions make absolutely no sense. One thing is clear, though. I need to keep a close eye on Bill from now on. God knows what he could do.

"Jeez. What's with that guy?" Gilbert shakes his head. Gilbird chirps.

"He's just mad because you won the fight." Ludwig says.

"Yeah. I mean, Alfred is a little pissy, but he wouldn't just go smacking people around with bats." Gilbert says, rolling his eyes.

I nod.

"Plus, that whole boyfriend thing was just plain rude. You aren't – you're not gay." Gilbert suddenly looks uncertain, as though he might offend me if I was.

"I'm not." I say flatly.

"Yeah. So that guy's just crazy." Gilbert scoffs. "Anyway, let's go get lunch. I'm starved." He makes a move for the lunch line (which has quite a few kids staring at us. I'm tired of getting stared at).

"No thanks." I mumble. I need to go see…" I trail off.

"See if that's true? No way. It's not." Gilbert says. "That guy just has a stick in his butt."

"I'd like to double check. I mean, I know it's not true, but I'd still like to make sure." I say.

"Okay. If you want." Gilbert says.

"Do you want us to get you anything?" Ludwig asks.

"No thanks." I smile in thanks and start to walk out of the cafeteria doors. "Oh, and can you guys not mention this to anyone? You know how rumors spread around here."

"We won't say anything. Knowing this school a simple fight with a possible bat would turn into a massacre with guns and grenades." Ludwig says with sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Thanks." I say, walking out the door. My head aches, and I feel an unreasonable amount of paranoia build up inside me.

I find Alfred and his friends at their usual spot by the art building wall. Alfred is munching on a peanut butter sandwich, while his brother looks like he's about to doze off against the wall. Honda and Francis are eating peacefully. I don't want to make a scene, so I talk in a reasonable voice, making sure my expression is neutral.

"I need to talk to you." I say.

Alfred looks up from his sandwich. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Fo' wha'?" He asks, his voice muffled by bread and peanut butter.

"Can I just speak to you for a moment? Alone, preferably?" I reply.

Alfred swallows, and there is a glint of suspicion in his eyes. "What for?" He repeats.

"Just…an important matter has arisen. It's a rumour.I need to see if it's true." I say.

"Dude, you can talk to me right here." Alfred says.

"Okay…" I trail off and decide to just come out with it. "Did or did you not beat up Obyrockling's goonies with a bat?"

"Did I…?" An expression of pure bewilderment crosses his face. It quickly changes to anger. "No. Who the hell told you that?"

"Bill." I say.

"Why would he say something like that?" Alfred demands. I wince. It appears I've ignited his short fuse.

"Um." I shake my head and shrug. "Look, did you hurt them at all? Did you attack them or even just provoke them?"

"Yeah. I beat them up because _they _threatened _me. _Calling me a wuss and stuff. But I didn't beat them with a freaking bat. I mean, I guess I hurt them kinda badly, but not with a _bat_. I'm not crazy or anything."

"Then how'd one of them get his arm broken?" I ask. The truth is, Alfred is powerful. I can imagine him breaking someone's arm if he got angry enough.

"The idiot was trying to push me down the stairs, and he ended up falling. I threatened them a bit after that and then I left. A bat. Dear God, how stupid can that guy get?" Alfred grits his teeth.

"Oh." I say, relieved to know the truth.

"Al! You can't just go picking fights with people!" Matthew exclaims.

"They picked a fight with me! And besides, they deserved it!" Alfred protests.

"Matthew is right, you know." I say. "Any more fights and you could get expelled."

Alfred narrows his eyes at me, furious. "Are you going to tell the teacher?" He's misinterpreted my comment. He thinks I'm threatening him.

"No. I won't say a word! I'm just saying that fighting is not a smart thing to do. You've already been in a lot of fights, and you really don't want to get expelled."

"And why do you care?" His tone is still hostile.

I think my headache is getting worse. "I'm the Student Council President. I'm supposed to help students. And besides, Bill is acting really creepy. He might try something and I want you to be cautious. Don't start a fight or anything, just be alert!" I say. Why is he so angry? We obviously had a bad past experience, but there's no reason to still hate me now is there?

For a moment, I can't help but wonder if Bill and Alfred are trying to team up and fight me. A vivid image passes through my mind. Bill has me pinned on the ground, and Alfred's shoe is hovering over my face. It comes closer and closer before it smashes into my skull – _triangle_. The word cuts into my mind. I blink and shake the image off.

Alfred stares at me, still appearing unsure. "Okay. I guess." He says.

"Thank you for your concern." Honda chirps in.

"No problem." I wave my hand and walk off. Then I go back to the Oak tree and listen to Feliciano jabber with Ludwig and Gilbert. I think I hear something in the edges of my hearing, but I can't be sure. It's probably a car or something. And my head still hurts.

****************************************************(Saturday)

I get up and take a quick shower. I munch on some toast, and then brush my teeth. The rest of the week passed without incident. Bill didn't try anything, and Gilbert and Ludwig didn't bring it up again. It was a normal week, for the most part. But my headache has been persisting on and off. Pills aren't helping at all. Today the headache seems to be on the verge of becoming a migraine.

"Ugh." I groan, cracking open a bottle of Motrin and shoving four pills into my mouth. "Ahh… this bloody sucks." I hold my hand against my head before stumbling into the living room.

"Good morning, sweetie." Mum says from the couch. She seems to be getting better since she's been on her pills.

"Morning." I reply, smiling at her. She has a huge stack of paper next to her.

"You're dressed already. Where are you going?" She asks.

"I was planning on meeting up with some friends later today. If that's okay." I add.

"It's fine." She says.

"You don't need anything?" I ask, making sure.

"Nope. I'll be fine. I'm just working on my book." She pats the stack of paper lovingly.

"Cool. Thanks."

"You need to be a teenager every once in a while. Instead of worrying about your old mum all the time." She says.

"Uh-huh." I'm so pleased to see her like this. I turn and stare out the window. It's a sunny day outside, perfect for relaxing with friends. I hear a noise and turn back to mum. "Did you say something?"

She glances up at me, pen poised over the paper. Her face is puzzled. "No. I didn't say anything."

"Huh." I say, shrugging and admiring the view. The sun hurts my head. I look away. "Mind if I borrow the car for a few hours?"

"Go right ahead. If I need anything I'll call."

"Thanks, mum." I smile and walk over to her, then I hug her. She hesitates momentarily – she doesn't like to be touched – before hugging me back. I feel warm inside, but something keeps niggling at my stomach. I feel a sense of unease that even her hug can't erase.

"Bye, dear."

"Bye." I say, grabbing the keys and walking into the garage. I shut the door behind me. It's quiet and dark for just a second. Then, a strange noise starts up, quiet at first, but growing louder. It sounds like the vending machine noise. I flick on the light, curious. Perhaps something turned on when I walked in.

I inspect the dusty shelves, finding various tools and cans of paint, but nothing that could make that noise. Then I check out the car. Again, there's nothing out of the ordinary. Growing increasingly befuddled, I look on the floor. Did a bug manage to get in? I don't see anything, which really confuses me. Because it sounds like a bee or something.

I stick my finger in my ear and pull it out. The sound persists. Frowning, I triple check the room. There's nothing.

Nothing at all.

But….it sounds like a bee.

I freeze. The keys slip from my sweaty hand and clatter against the floor. My headache increases. My subconscious whispers, a tiny little thing in the back of my brain. _And what do bees do? _

They buzz.

I am frozen. I can't move a single muscle. Horror is causing me to tremble violently. I feel as though I might throw up.

No! No! Dear God, how did I not see this coming? How could I not tell? Those noises I've been hearing, those shapes...it was all…it was all….no! _No! _

My legs collapse from under me. My knees smack against the concrete but I can't feel it. I'm breathing hard and my heart is pulsing so loud I can hear it, and it's all so very _loud_, but even through all that I can still hear the noise. That God dammed noise. I can't move at all. And in my terror and paranoia I hear one thing. Maybe I whisper it, or maybe I think it, or maybe it's not me saying it at all, but it still comes through to me just the same.

_It starts with the buzzing. _

**Poor Arthur...! I'm so mean! Dx thanks for reading up to chapter 8! As usual, I'm very grateful for all the feedback and support you guys give me! The next chapter will (hopefully) be out soon. I just have to overcome evil writer's block...**


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